


Wandering Minds

by Anonymous



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Discorporation (Good Omens), Gore, Ligur Lives (Good Omens), M/M, Skull Fucking, Visceral
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:16:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22654612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Ligur died, but then he got better. He wants to prove to Hastur that he'll always get better.
Relationships: Hastur/Ligur (Good Omens)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 25
Collections: Good Omens Kink Meme Anonymous





	Wandering Minds

**Author's Note:**

> Demons can bounce back from anything! 
> 
> Please heed the tags on this.

Hastur did a weird thing sometimes where his face leaked and he made human noises.

“You're doing it again,” Ligur grumbled. His back was warm and salted, but not in the fun way he sometimes used to wake up to before the birth of the Antichrist, which involved different bodily fluids altogether. This was an unfun way where Hastur hiccuped and snotted all over him and tried to pretend he hadn't.

“I had the pictures in my mind,” Hastur mumbled in Ligur's shoulder. “The melty ones.”

Dreams were something Hastur had caught last time they were both topside. Ligur had found the soul of a homeopath when they got back to Hell and had tried menacing her into telling them how to cure it. As far as he could find out, they were both incurable and often fatal, but he kept that to himself. More demonic to pretend your husband should hold out hope.

“They're not real,” Ligur said. He turned around and their whole nest creaked. Facing Hastur, he could see where the snot and tears had run rivulets down the grime across his cheeks. “It's the electricity gone down the wrong path.”

It wasn't exactly that, but he said it confidently enough, which in Hell amounted to much the same thing. He scratched a finger along Hastur's soul. When its little tongue shot out and wrapped around his finger, he stroked it too. Hastur shivered.

“If you're going to keep doing that...”

They bumped foreheads. Ligur unwrapped his finger so their tongues could get tangled up with each other instead; Hastur's human face stopped leaking and started to smile.

“You're despicable.”

“So are you.” Ligur hesitated. He'd been talking to some of the humans who'd done various awful things to other humans under their care and would be the first to acknowledge they might not be the best source of mental health advice. Just in case, though, he decided to go for it. “I'm here now. You know I'll always come back to you.”

Hastur's face started leaking again, so that was obviously a bust. Unless that was the intended effect, which was always a possibility. He decided to press on. 

“There's no holy water down here.” Now it felt like he was just stating the obvious. “Remember when I got stabbed in the throat by that priest?”

Hastur nodded. It was one of his favourite stories. “You tore the knife out and cut him open with it.”

“That's right. Anything I can't shrug off, I'll just rebuild.”

Ligur rubbed a hand between Hastur's legs. Even told as shortly as that, with no description of the blood and gore, the priest was one of his _favourite_ stories.

“You'll come back,” Hastur said quickly and all in one breath. “Always.”

“Always,” Ligur promised. He shuffled down and pulled Hastur's cock out of his trousers. Sucking at it was easy, rolling its short length around in his mouth while Hastur cried out and pressed a hand down on his head. It was the next bit that would prove to be a bit harder.

A cock wasn't enough to push his eyeball in; he had to pull Hastur's hands down into it instead. It took a while for Hastur to get the message and push his wonderfully grimy fingernails in hard enough for the flesh to collapse with a warm squelch. Warm clear fluid ran down Ligur's cheek. His vision went fuzzy with pain and the adjustment to singular sight.

“You can,” he managed to rasp out, looking up at Hastur with his one remaining eye. “You can. I will.”

His own face was leaking now, hot blood and viscera running down his chin. Hastur stroked ever so gently around the socket, first with a finger and then with his cock, leaving streaks of spunk around it like a painted eyepatch at a birthday party. Eventually he pushed in.

Ligur scrambled at his pale thighs, scratching instinctively against the strange intrusion. He left long red welts which started to bleed with a tandem pulse to the gore gushing out his socket as Hastur worked his cock through what had once been an iris. There was no room – not enough room – even Hastur wasn't going to fit. 

Ligur's own cock was half hard beneath his boxers. He tried to concentrate on that instead of the gentle way Hastur was pushing against his rim. He rubbed himself idly while the idiot broken demon who meant more to him than anything else in Hell cried, and wiped away the tear coming from Ligur's remaining eye, and ran two fingers down the back of his soul.

“Come back,” Hastur muttered, driving himself further through. “Come back.”

If Ligur was still able to form words, he would have made a snide remark about Hastur's attempts to get come down the back of his skull.

Instead he was left with pawing at Hastur's thighs, thinking of nothing as Hastur talked to himself and smashed at the flesh inside Ligur. It had once been a cerebellum; it had once housed a demon. Now it was just gore and a hole Ligur happened to be in the same space as.

Hastur grunted and thrust forward. Ligur didn't do much apart from let him. Let him work himself further and further, displacing more and more matter which ran down Ligur's face, around Hastur's cock, the two of them gross and sticky and corporal together. Hastur muttered and juddered while Ligur tried to think pleasant thoughts, in as much as he could think any thoughts at all. The priest. Hastur's pale curly hairs brushing against his eyebrow. 

When Hastur grunted and spent in the part of Ligur's corporation which had once been responsible for breathing, Ligur decided breathing wasn't really all that important.

Proving yourself not to be a liar shouldn't be important to a demon. Demons are good at lying. Ligur was _good_ at lying, but he couldn't make a liar of his earlier self. He put his hands on his human body and knitted it back together instead.

“See?” he croaked when the word bit started working again, “Good as new.”

Hastur licked the spunk and viscera from his cheek in reply. His face was leaking again, but it didn't seem as bad this time. “Good as new.”


End file.
